Demon Days
by jenthetrulysly
Summary: Danny is kidnapped by a psychopath who loves to break his victims down and rebuild them slowly, molding them as if they were made from the finest plaster of Paris. Does the detective have the inner strength to protect his core identity? DARK.


**Demon Days**

By jenthetrulysly

**Chapter 1**

Danny didn't know how much more of this he could take. He had been on the razor edge of exhaustion for far too long now, and it was really starting to show. He craved that fathomless darkness, where he wouldn't be able to feel or think or hurt anymore.

He groaned as he was bodily thrown to the ground. Every muscle and bone in his body screamed out in excruciating agony, and _that_ was saying something. As Second-In-Command of Five O he was used to the bumps and bruises and concussions and gunshots that often came his way, but this, this was a completely different thing in an entire class of its own. Even that time when Auston shot him paled to this, and it wouldn't take much before he succumbed to the darkness that was slowly creeping up at the corner of his eyes. At least then he could have some respite from all this pain, which made him feel like he was burning alive.

He landed in a heap on the soiled mattress on the basement floor face down, trying hard not to breathe in the stench of blood and sweat and sex embedded there. He turned his face to the side and opened one eye to see the shadow of his tormentor looming over him. Panic rushed through his body as the adrenaline surged, doing its best to try and get him up on his feet. His mind and instincts were telling him to make a break for the door, or to put up some sort of struggle, fight back.

However, given his battered and bruised condition, fight or flight was out of the question. He felt really dizzy from the large lump at the back of his head, where his tormentor had struck him originally to subdue him, force him into compliance. Not to mention his mind felt disconnected from his body, undoubtedly due to the massive amount of drugs his tormentor had been pumping into his system ever since he had been captured. At the moment there was a twenty second time delay between thought and action, which was very, very dangerous given his current predicament.

The best thing for him at the moment would be to go along with whatever this sadist had in mind, try to appease him, get the man to let his guard down and relax. Then Danny could make a break for it, or at the least find a way to get into contact with Five-O and Steve, who would undoubtedly be scouring the islands looking for him right now. In his current condition, there was no way that he could fight the man.

His train of thought was derailed when he felt a rough hand grab his tender shoulder and yank him onto his back. He couldn't help the moan of pain at the movement, which caused intense pain to flare on his right hand side, as he rolled over. At the very least, he had a badly bruised rib. The detective shivered as he felt the mattress dip and warmth radiate off the other man's skin as he settled down next to Danny.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"HPD have reported no sightings of Danny in the past twenty four hours anywhere on Oahu," Chin said, then added, "my sources don't know anything about Danny's disappearance…no one's out for his blood, no contracts on him either."

"What about the PDs on the other islands?" Steve snapped back, stepping behind his office chair to lean against the wall and look out the window. "Any instances of anyone fitting Danny's description turning up at the airports whatsoever?"

"None Boss" Kono said sadly, "they have orders to stop an' pick up anyone matching Danny's description. So far no one like dat has turned up."

Chin shook his head, "it's been five days and they would have made their move, gotten Danny off Oahu by this stage. Nah, he's still on this island."

"I'm goin' down ta visit Che, see if he's got any aces up his sleeve for us," Kono announced, waiting for Steve's minute nod before ambling out of the room.

Steve was very close to throwing something heavy at the wall at the way this investigation was going nowhere. He had never been this angry before, in either his personal life or his working life. That time when Wo Fat had been traded for that American pilot captured in China right under his nose, just when he had him didn't compare to this. He ground his teeth in irritation as he stalked outside into the afternoon sun, and took several deep breaths, grabbing the smooth wrought iron of the railing between his hands.

It had been five days since the last reported sighting of Danny at the North Shore by some of the local beach bums there. They weren't exactly the world's most reliable witnesses but in this case he knew that they were telling the truth. It would make no sense for them to hide their knowledge of where Danny was. The man had disappeared without a trace.

The lead detective knew that something was very wrong when Danny had not turned up for work the following day. The younger detective was very punctual and would always give very advanced notice of any deviation from his usual _modus operandi_.

Coming out onto the lanai in these stressful times often helped to calm him down and to temporarily clear away the fog of tiredness that nothing but sleep could get rid of. But it did nothing for him today, because it conjured up past happy memories of being with Danny, discussing case aspects as they basked in the glorious warmth of the Hawaiian sun. The dark haired detective's grip around the railing got much tighter, as his knuckles turned bright white.

From the inside he could hear Chin's footsteps approaching as he walked out to the lanai, before a warm, pudgy hand settled down on Steve's shoulder. This caused him to turn around and fix his piercing dark blue gaze on the Oriental detective, before catching the note of concern there.

"We'll find Danny, Steve. Don't worry."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Danny very badly wanted to shy away from the foreign touch, which made him feel horribly dirty in ways he didn't want to think about, shuddering as those ghostly yellow fingers trailed a mock caress up the side of his neck, pausing by his mouth to run over his lips and down his chin. Wide blue eyes watched as the man lifted his fingers, which were shining with Danny's blood up to the dim light, admiring the stark fresh crimson. He twisted his hand to admire the blood for a few moments before running it across one of Danny's badly swollen and lacerated cheeks. In any other situation, the move would be considered tender, but not here.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look, aikane, when you are like this..." he whispered loud enough only for Danny to hear.

"I'm not your aikane!" Danny retorted hotly. All that earned him was another backhand across his jaw, which stung more than it should. He gasped in pain as his tormentor lifted a leg over Danny's torso and straddled him, putting uncomfortable pressure on his lower body. It wouldn't take long before discomfort would turn into outright pain, and he was nearly past the point of endurance. He wasn't sure he could handle anymore. There was pain everywhere and it wouldn't take much for him to get overwhelmed.

The darkness of unconsciousness was looking very inviting now; anything to get away from this. The fiend was using his knees to squeeze Danny's sides gently. The move almost caused the detective to howl with pain, confirming that at least one of his ribs was cracked, sending waves of dull pain across his body. He gasped as the pressure got stronger and began to squirm, to try and get the man on top of him to stop. When it became unbearable, he writhed and squirmed, trying to alleviate the pain that was building steadily. The stronger man's hands pinned Danny's shoulders and he leaned forward, totally restricting movement. He had no choice but to stay there panting harshly and blinking the sweat away from his eyes as he struggled to stay alert and wary. He could feel his consciousness slipping.

Danny flinched when he felt those vile fingers cup the side of his swollen cheek again, just under where those same fingers had traced a line of blood there earlier. Warmth radiated from the palm of his hand, but there was no comfort in this. Those usually clear blue eyes shone with wariness, as they remained transfixed on the figure above.

"Oh, you still have a spark in you." He removed his hand and lay it just where Danny's heart would be under the torn and bloodstained shirt, where it was hammering at a speed that was making him feel giddy and lightheaded. Dan wasn't sure if this was because of the elevated blood pressure or the fact that he had been here…heck, he didn't even know how long he had been confined to this dingy place. There were no windows or clocks; there was no possible way to tell the time. It had taken on some sort of weird non-meaning. He didn't know whether he had been here for a few hours or a few days. The more time that passed though, the less likely Steve would be able to find him.

_Steve_.

Fear seized his heart in a vice like grip when he was faced with the very real possibility that Steve might not make it in time. He was at the mercy of this sadist unable to defend himself, each move of resistance costing precious strength. He had been beaten to within an inch of consciousness; deep purple bruises bloomed on his skin, like so many spots of paint on an artist's canvas. As if _he _was this sadist's canvas, free to rip, tear, mark and burn as pleased.

His resistance was making him weak, chipping away gradually at what remained of his strength. The body was more likely to give up, long before the mind ever did. Hunger gnawed a hole at the pit of his stomach, where the acid threatened to burn its way through the lining if he didn't eat anything soon. He knew that all food and water offered to him was drugged to the nines, could sniff out the strong chemical smell hidden behind the tantalizing aromas of spices, so refused to eat because of the cost. His lips were dry with a nasty crack splitting the hardened skin, the faint coppery tang of his own blood never too far. His throat was in no better shape; parched dry and screamed hoarse.

Horror wormed its way right down into every fiber of Danny's being when his tormentor licked his lips and mused softly, "I can already tell that you are going to be my favorite yet. I've always wondered if blondes were better."

Danny hoped against hope that this was all a bad dream that he could just wake up from, but the constant throbbing of pain everywhere convinced him otherwise. The blessed darkness was out of reach now, and could offer him no comfort; no more than the thought that Steve would come for him, which rapidly diminished with each passing moment.


End file.
